


Last Night I Dreamed That Somebody Loved Me

by penguinparity



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Dreams, Emotionally Repressed, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinparity/pseuds/penguinparity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last night I dreamt you were lying beside me and I almost believed that this morning I'd find you still there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started quite some time ago on the kinkmeme. Posting it over here in the faint hope that I can publicly shame myself into getting it done.
> 
> The title is from a song by Low.

For being one of the richest men in America, Mark’s life is relatively uncomplicated. He gets up, he goes to work. He oversees the development of major new features of his website while working far longer hours than strictly necessary for his position. He goes home to a house that is quite modest given he’s the second youngest billionaire in the world, behind only his own employee Dustin.

Then again, Mark is self-aware enough to acknowledge that his life is uncomplicated because of his wealth. Even if Facebook had never been about money for him, it absolutely has been about the power it accrued him. The cadre of executive assistants who manage his schedule, screen his calls, and handle him on a daily basis are the reason he’s able to do the work of a lead developer while only occasionally being drug into business meetings. It is there that Mark does what he loves best; pure creation. Plugged in. Music flowing over him, flowing through him. 

A year after thefacebook had gone live, a hacker at Stanford had nearly managed to crash the site by back hacking into their SQL server through an open port. Mark’s QC intern had spotted the spike in traffic quickly enough and they’d fixed the security hole long before the site’s stability had been threatened. But Mark hadn’t been satisfied so he’d decided to rewrite Facebook’s own proprietary version of all the website’s programming languages to make outside access that much more difficult. As he crafted the beginnings of three new languages, pouring over syntax and grammar, the papers serving him notice of Eduardo’s pending lawsuit sat pointedly ignored on a nearby desk.

Mark likes to think of himself a practical man. His friend hadn’t been able to accept where the company was going, where _they_ needed to go. So Mark had deliberately lost himself in the siren song of Facebook’s infrastructure when Sean and the lawyers had drawn up the papers to remove Eduardo’s influence. Mark moved on with his life after he signed the settlement papers with Eduardo. At least that’s what he tells himself. The cold austerity of his rarely visited bedroom tells a different story.

Most nights Mark falls asleep on his couch, slouched over his darkened laptop. He’d bought the house during their second year in California, not too long after their first double digit million dollar investor buy in. At first, he’d started sleeping on the couch out of reluctance to lie awake in the dark of his bedroom and the encroaching thoughts of his impending lawsuits. Now it’s simply habit to work until he’s too tired to move.

The harsh strains of Kate Miller-Heidke’s voice startles Mark awake the next morning. The bad rip of the live recording muffled slightly from inside his sweatshirt’s pocket.

 _And now you wanna be my friend on facebook... Are you fucking kidding?_

Mark answers his phone before the ring tone can launch into Kate’s longer diatribe against all of Facebook’s different faults. Groggily, Mark thinks to himself that he’s going to have to get Dustin back at some point for managing to steal his phone and stealth setting his own ringtone to such an asinine song.

“Speak,” Mark says gruffly as he struggles to sit up and not dump his computer onto the floor simultaneously.

“What? Are you the Wizard of Oz all of a sudden or something?” Dustin asks.

“I don’t understand what that means. Why are you calling me? Did something happen?” Mark asks. He rubs tiredly at his eyes with his free hand. He’d stayed up far too late last night, one more thing turning into about ten before he’d finally lost the ability to focus on the screen.

There’s a short, telling pause on the other end of the line that has Mark reaching for his computer before Dustin replies. “It’s Saturday, man. Chris just got back in town, I just thought.”

“I’ve got some work to do, Dustin. Tell him I said hi and I’ll see you both on Monday, yeah?” Mark is already thumbing over the disconnect button when he hears Dustin respond.

On some level Mark knows what is expected of him. Dustin has been planning Chris’s surprise graduation party for weeks. Although surprise might be overstating it a bit as Dustin has been about as subtle as a sack full of wet cats. Or a webpage coded in basic HTML with giant red text. Mark is actually pretty sure the invite Dustin sent out looked remarkably similar. Despite being forced to learn basic coding skills in helping with Facebook, the finer points of design had been lost on him.

But Mark is also excruciatingly aware of where Chris has been commuting to and from for the past two years. Chris might have the tact not to mention it directly, but Mark has overheard Dustin more than once jokingly ask Chris over the phone how his visitation after the divorce was going.

Mark tosses his phone onto the coffee table and collapses back onto his sofa with a sigh. _Five minutes, I’ll get up in five minutes_ , he tells himself as he falls back asleep.

\--

Mark is sitting on the porch, talking with his sister when Wardo sits down next to him on the swing. She grins at the two of them from her chair and launches into an incomprehensible debate with Wardo about pescaíto frito versus gefilte fish. Their raucous argument flows around and through Mark like his music does when he’s plugged in.

“See, this is the problem with Sephardi Jews, man,” his sister cuts in. “You guys want to fry everything. That can’t be healthy.” She tsks disapprovingly, even if the twinkle in her eyes belies her tone.  
“We’re still part of the chosen people, fried food or not,” Wardo argues with a laugh. “Besides, have you ever tried pescaíto frito? Delicioso!”

Relaxing back into the porch’s swing and the summer’s sweltering sunset, Mark looks over towards them both. He catches Wardo glancing at him and grins.

With an easy smile, Wardo smiles back and slings an arm across the back of the swing, across Mark’s shoulders. It’s been a long time since anyone touched Mark so casually and without intent.

\--

Mark jerks awake, alone on the couch. He feels clammy and sweaty inside his hoodie, almost trapped. It’s been months since he’s dreamt of Eduardo.

The dreams are unsettling, leaving an ache in his chest. He never dreams about their final months, or even specific memories of things they did in the past. He doesn’t dream of running into Eduardo again at some Billionaires’ only club. Nor does he dream of trying to apologize. To Mark’s honest surprise, he doesn’t dream of the sublimated desires he used to ignore back at Harvard. His subconscious always skips all of these and hones straight in on what seems to cut the deepest against Mark’s carefully constructed solitary confinement. He dreams of their casual camaraderie, the simple ease with which Eduardo became _Wardo_ in Mark’s eyes. 

Mark’s dreams remind him of what he lost, the friendship he elected to knowingly sacrifice for the love of Facebook. The worst of it, Mark knows, is that he doesn’t truly regret it. He would still pick Facebook, knowing the consequences. Perhaps this is why he only dreams of their easy friendship, because this is his mind’s subtle way of reminding him that even if Facebook was the better choice, Facebook can’t reminisce over last year’s Thanksgiving or throw an arm around your shoulder and invade your space. Even if you can log into it anytime and anywhere you want, you can’t take it home to hang out with your sister. 

As Mark struggles back towards alertness, the solitude of his house seems particularly acute in the fading memory of his dream. Stripping off his hoodie, Mark goes to shower.

Although his house itself is modest, Mark has installed some upgrades. Originally a three bedroom house, Mark had part of one bedroom merged with his master bathroom so as to accommodate the custom shower he had installed. Standing under the punishing spray of two showerheads, Mark breathes in the steam as he tries to wash away the phantom touch. It’s been long enough that he can’t quite remember anymore what it felt like when Eduardo would drape his arm around him. They’ve now been estranged business partners for longer than they were ever friends to begin with.

The most painful part of these dreams and ironically perhaps the easiest for Mark to admit is how little hope they evoke in him. Mark doesn’t harbor any illusions or fantasies that they’ll one day run into each other and magically reconnect. They only serve to viscerally remind him how much he misses having Eduardo’s close confidence and friendship.

Mark gets out of the shower and considers his options as he gets dressed. He blew Dustin’s invitation off earlier but now the prospect of losing himself in code is tinged with the fresh memory of his dream. Pulling on a clean shirt, Mark grabs a jacket instead of his hoodie and heads downstairs.

\--

When he gets to Dustin’s place, Mark hesitates for a moment before getting out of his car. He picks up the gift he found for Chris, wondering if it’s too much. He considers turning his car back on for the 10th time and backing out of the driveway before anyone notices when the front door opens.

“Hey, I think the pizza’s here,” Dustin shouts from somewhere just inside the darkened doorway before leaning his head out. He takes in Mark sitting in his car and his eyes widen slightly. He yells something else inside and shuts the door behind him as he steps out.

“Fantastic, I’m rude while half-awake one time and they uninvite me,” Mark mutters to himself. The though actually sinks in and Mark reconsiders, _actually, if that were the case, I’d have been uninvited a long time ago_. He only sighs tiredly at himself that his mental rejoinder sounded suspiciously like Eduardo.

“Talking to yourself, bro? That’s never a good sign,” Dustin says when Mark steps out if his car.

“It’s not like this is new behavior,” Mark replies. “Is there a reason you’ve appointed yourself bouncer just as I’ve arrived, or am I supposed to feel particularly special you’re escorting me inside?” Dustin rubs the back of his head sheepishly and doesn’t quite meet his eyes, he always was a crap liar.

“Mark, please don’t freak out,” Dustin says. Mark is a little concerned at the pleading tone in Dustin’s voice and he frowns.

“What the hell, Dustin? Please tell me you two aren’t pulling a Sean and bringing underage interns to your party,” Mark asks as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He can’t imagine what has Dustin so nervous as to try and warn him off outside here. He’s half tempted to push past his friend and walk into the house regardless.

“Does it hurt to be crazy, Mark?” Dustin snaps. Mark recoils at the insult, surprised at the anger in Dustin’s response.

“Not everyone is out to destroy the company. Or you.” Dustin punctuates his remark with a finger pushed into Mark’s chest. Mark flinches unconsciously, uncomfortable with the invasion of his personal space. “Look, we didn’t think you were going to come today after the way you hung up on me this morning. And he was in town already meeting with some prospective investors, so we invited him over for a couple beers.” A tremor of tension shivers up Mark’s spine as he takes note of the way Dustin is carefully circling in on disclosing whoever it is that he thinks is going to cause Mark to go apeshit.

“Who is it?” Mark demands shortly, impatient for Dustin to confirm his suspicion.

“Wardo,” Dustin says. The nickname falling from Dustin’s lips feels like a physical slap for Mark, who blinks numbly. He frowns as he realizes something. Dustin isn’t just concerned that Mark’s going to cause a scene inside the party. He’d hedged his bets out here, on the drive way. Dustin is trying to give Mark an out here, a way to escape without anyone at the party knowing he’d even shown up. The responding anger at the realization is so blinding he can feel his spine stiffening. When did his friends start to think him such a coward that he couldn’t even face Eduardo?

Mark walks past Dustin and up the steps to the front door. With his fingers circled around the handle of the front door, he turns back towards Dustin, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“Well, just like in any custody sharing agreement after a divorce, sometimes the kids have to grin and bear it when visitations overlap,” Mark snaps. He counts it as a win when he sees Dustin blanche slightly at the reference.

There aren’t many people inside the house. Despite Dustin’s declarations of having the most epic party to ever be had, Mark notices most of the people here are from the first few years or friends from Harvard who have migrated out West. He might not be the most socially adept person, but even Mark notices the change in the tenor of conversations when he walks into Dustin’s living room. There’s no dramatic gasps, the conversations don’t abruptly die off, but Mark has that prickling sensation on the back of his neck from being observed. It reminds him of that programming class back at Harvard after FaceSmash, when the other kids in the class had been eyeing him surreptitiously the entire class. Until the note from that girl had finally wound its way up to him through the sparse rows of students.

It’s like that all over again, except this time Mark created the language the class is struggling to learn. He’s the fucking creator here and he has no intention of going to look for Eduardo. He’s not going to take Dustin’s pity offer to escape out the back unnoticed, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to go spoiling for a fight either.

He can feel Dustin coming in just behind him, practically hovering from all the nervous energy the man is radiating. Mark is pretty sure they might be able to detect it from space at this point from the sheer amount of _danger! Don’t panic! Danger!_ waves that are emanating off of Dustin. Mark turns.

“Where’s Chris? I want to give him his present,” he says. Dustin calms visibly when he seems to realize that Mark isn’t going to immediately seek out Eduardo.

“He’s out back,” Dustin replies, gesturing towards his backyard patio.

Mark exits the back of the house and spots Chris immediately. He notices Eduardo sprawling loosely in a lawn chair nearly. Eduardo hasn’t seen him yet, if the smile and relaxed posture are any indication. The sight seizes something painfully in Mark’s chest. He has plenty of memories of Eduardo just like this, but his waking recollections of the man have been overshadowed by the angry carnage that marked the end of their friendship.

Mark freezes for a second and swallows frantically against the bile rising in his throat. Then Chris spots him and is striding forward with a broad smile.

“Glad you could tear yourself away for an afternoon,” Chris says. He stops just short of hugging Mark, simply clapping him on the shoulder affectionately.

“Of course. Of course,” Mark replies, suddenly acutely uncomfortable. “I got you a present, for finishing your degree and graduating. You know, unlike me, maybe you’ll need it someday, who knows.” He holds out the book, cover face up.

“A book?” Chris queries with an amused snort.

“It’s a first edition of E. M. Forester’s short story collections, one of the sci-fi ones, I think. The cost isn’t really an issue. I mean, it seemed a little extravagant for a graduation present but you’re not just our public face, you’re my friend. And Forester was a well respected homosexual 20th century writer.” Mark trailed off uncertainly for a moment at Dustin’s muffled laughter before forging on. “What? You kept posting on the site all the time about your early 20th century lit class, so I thought you might like it.”

“That present seemed so much more thoughtful and less douchey before you tripped over yourself to explain just how big of a dick you are,” Eduardo drawled from somewhere to Mark’s left. Chris and Dustin’s smiles faded in almost unison and they both turned to glare at him. Mark pointedly doesn’t turn around, but continues to look towards Chris.

“Yes, thank you, Eduardo. For pointing that out, because that hadn’t become painfully clear in the awkward silence following my attempt to give a heartfelt explanation of how I picked Chris’s gift. I see you’ve mastered the skill of pointing out the painfully obvious in the intervening years since we last spoke.” He shoves the book at Chris apologetically.

“I can find something else, if you. If you don’t want that,” he says haltingly.

“It’s great,” Chris assures him. Mark doesn’t want to be placated, he’s only just realizing his two closest remaining friends have been handling him just as much as his assistants have these past few years and he’s sick of it already. His life isn’t supposed to be easy and uncomplicated; it’s supposed to be _brilliant_.

“No, seriously, if you don’t like it, I can find something else to get you. More appropriate,” Mark grits out. He makes a half hearted grab for the book, to take it back. He’s surprised when Chris snatches it back out of his grasp.

“Mortification doesn’t look very attractive on you, Mark. I’d just let it go. You can lick your wounded pride in private later,” Eduardo says cheerfully as he leverages himself up off the chair. “As much as I’m enjoying watching this little train wreck reunion, I’m going to go get another drink.”

Mark finally turns to face Eduardo, the bile in his throat has long since been replaced with a seething frustration. He can feel Dustin grabbing at his elbow as he turns but he easily shakes it off. Mark’s quick eyes take in the several empty beer bottles at the foot the chair Eduardo had been occupying.

“Yes, why don’t you do that. You always were much happier drunk, if I recall,” Mark says coldly. He doesn’t know what to make of Eduardo’s presence here. Mark had certainly thought about hypotheticals in the months after the initial settlement. He’d imagined seeing the fury Eduardo had shown the night they’d hit a million users. He’d imagined cold indifference like what Eduardo had been careening towards during the depositions themselves. But in any of the times he’s thought about seeing his friend again, Mark has never imagined this kind of petty bickering.

It’s the kind of childish behavior Mark would expect from himself, not Eduardo.

\--

They circle each other cautiously for the rest of the party, careful to mingle in opposite directions. Chris’s boyfriend Ward shows up not too long after and he helps run interference. He laughs outright when Chris shows him Mark’s present. Mark has only a split second to feel the mortification crawling back up his throat before Ward is wrapping him in a quick side-arm hug, asking how Mark knew that Chris was a huge fan of Forester.

“I didn’t, really. I guessed,” Mark admits sheepishly. Dustin laughs uproariously and raises his hand for a high-five.

“See what happens when you use for crazy genius for good, Markeykins?” Dustin asks as he makes what looks like a grab for Mark’s face. Mark is much more sober so he evades him easily.

“Yes, but using it for evil is so much more satisfying sometimes,” Mark replies absently. He tries to not think about it, but as he turns away from Dustin’s grabby hands he catches sight of Eduardo on the other side of the room. Eduardo is talking to a couple of their Harvard classmates but he’s clearly watching Mark and Dustin tussle around across the room. For a split second, Mark sees the most resigned expression on Eduardo’s face. Mark has seen that expression many a morning in the bathroom mirror alone at home.

The look vanishes off Eduardo’s face the moment he notices Mark’s attention and he turns back towards his conversation, scowling into his cup.


	2. Chapter 2

Mark isn’t sure if he’s thankful he doesn’t remember his dreams the remainder of the weekend. He resolutely refuses to think about the fact that he never makes it upstairs except to shower and change clothes finally on Monday morning.

When he gets into the Facebook offices Chris and Dustin are so loudly not talking about what happened that the silence is nearly killing Mark. At lunch he walks over to Dustin’s desk where they’re eating and throws himself into an empty chair. They look surprised to see him up and about, instead of jacked into his computer on a coding tear.

“What was he doing in the South Bay?” Mark asks. As usual he decides to forgo the small talk and head straight towards the issue bothering him. Chris and Dustin exchange some kind of silent conversation via head nods and glances that Mark doesn’t even bother trying to decipher. The two of them are thick as thieves.

“So we’re talking about this now?” Chris finally asks tentatively.

“I wasn’t aware we _weren’t_ talking about this,” Mark replies instantly.

“Are you fucking kidding me, bro?” Dustin says, nearly spraying a mouthful of his sandwich in the process. “For two goddamn years we’ve walked around here on eggshells. Everytime Eduardo, or Harvard, or fuck when we talked about expanding to Brazil; you’d get this pinched look on your face. Yes, that one you’re making right now, and then it was all we could do to prevent you from dying of scurvy because you’d try to see how long it was humanly possible to subsist on red vines, tuna and red bull.”

“Excuse me,” Mark interrupts, holding a single finger up in objection and he scowls. “First, it has only just recently come to my attention how much coddling the two of you seem to do in the name of what? My frail fucking constitution? I am not a child or a frail little girl about to faint away at the mere mention of our former business partner.”

“Friend,” Dustin and Chris both chime in over Mark. Mark continues on, ignoring them.

“And I do _not_ go into melodramatic fits of eating disorder everytime he comes up. I am a creator, I create things. Sometimes my focus is a little singular, but-“ 

“Oh please, let me call the Oscar’s. Mark is just a tortured genius, driven by his creativity,” Dustin interjects melodramatically.

“Excuse me?” Mark demands, glaring balefully at Dustin. Mark is momentarily distracted when he realizes Chris is barely managing to contain his laughter. “Is this funny to you, Chris?”

“It’s that or want to shoot myself in the face on a fairly regular basis,” Chris replies, completely dead pan, his grin only peaking out again towards the end. Mark snorts and they all start laughing.

“But really, why was he here, you mentioned something about meeting with some investors,” Mark prompted. He wasn’t going to let it go, something about it was bothering him and he was determined to figure it out.

“He’s meeting with investors and potential developers for some web application software,” Dustin finally concedes.

“Like 3rd party applications for the development platform we’re planning on rolling out for Facebook towards the end of the year?” Mark asks. He would be genuinely surprised if Dustin and Chris had been consulting with Eduardo on business maters without telling him. He didn’t care if they spent time together socially, but business was entirely different matter.

“Not exactly,” Dustin says hesitantly, like he just knows that Mark’s not going to like the eventual explanation.

“Out with it, Dustin, you have a crap poker face. What is he doing?” Mark demands.

“He’s developing 3rd party apps, but for LinkedIn,” Chris says when Dustin hesitates.

“What,” Mark says flatly.

“He-“ Dustin starts.

“No, I heard Chris the first time, excuse me.” Mark gets up abruptly from the table and walks quickly back towards his office.

“Shit, you don’t think he’s-” Dustin asks.

“Yeah, I do. But at this point I don’t think us walking in there is going to make a damn bit of difference,” Chris confirms.

“You never know, Chris. We’ve got a Schrödinger's cat here, my friend. We won’t know if we have an exploded Mark or a calm Mark until we go in there. Until we go in there, there are two Marks. Do you really want to be responsible for two Marks?” Dustin starts to get up from his seat.

“Dustin, no matter how many times you explain that stupid thought experiment to me, I’m never going to understand it. It’s always going to be a stupid cat in a stupid box. I was an English major. Now get over yourself and stop trying to be such a yenta,” Chris says as he yanks Dustin back into his seat.

“Oh, look at the gay boy adopting our ways and words! What has the world come to,” Dustin lamented mockingly.

“I will punch you in the dick if you don’t shut up, Dustin,” Chris says with a grin.

\--

“You’re an idiot,” Mark says when Eduardo picks up his cell phone. He hadn’t even needed to ask his assistant for the number, it had been sitting in his electronic database of contacts this entire time.

“Excuse me? Who is this?” Eduardo asks after a lengthy pause. Mark doesn’t bother replying to either question.

“What are you doing developing applications for our competitors? You want to know why you’re no longer the CFO of Facebook? It’s bad business decisions exactly like this one,” Mark explains.

“You mean _your_ competitors, Mark,” Eduardo replies, his voice terse.

“They’re your competitors too! You’re still a shareholder, or did you forget the part where you sued and had your stake in the company reinstated? Your name is back on the masthead. You shouldn’t be developing 3rd party software for other people, you should be doing it for Facebook,” Mark nearly yells. There is a long silence on the other end of the line and Mark starts to wonder if Eduardo has hung up on him.

“I’ve learned that going into business with you is dangerous,” Eduardo finally replies. He doesn’t clarify.

“You technically still are in business with me,” Mark points out.

“You know what I mean,” Eduardo snaps.

“I do,” Mark concedes after a moment.

“Mixing business with personal relationships is what got us into problems in the first place.”

“Then don’t,” Mark offers. For him it really is that simple. Eduardo is still technically a part of their company. Their friendship is no longer relevant to the equation, it is something to be bracketed in parenthesis; an aside.

“Excuse me?” Eduardo asks. He sounds exhausted already.

“We have an entire team of developers working on the Facebook platform. You’re a shareholder, you pick who you work with. It doesn’t have to be me. I can step off of that part of the development,” Mark offers. Mark motions through the glass wall of his office at his assistant. The man, Devon, opens the door and walks silently up to Mark’s desk.

“It’s not that easy, Mark. You are the company.”

“One of my assistants is making an appointment for you,” Mark says as he hands Devon a hastily scrawled note. “He’ll see you at 2 p.m. to arrange a meeting with the development team.”

“Mark!” Eduardo yells into the phone, clearly annoyed. Mark hits the disconnect button instead of letting Eduardo trying to talk himself out of the meeting. Devon eyes Mark, clearly struggling to maintain a neutral expression.

“Call him at 1 to remind him of the meeting,” Mark says calmly. Devon simply raises an eyebrow in response. 

“And if he doesn’t show?” Devon asks, clearly expecting this.

“Then call me,” Mark replies. “I’ll be working from home for the rest of the day. Clear my schedule.”

“Anything else, Mr. Zuckerberg?” Devon asks before retreating back out of the office.

Mark considers his options as he packs up his laptop. He’s not technically fleeing from his own offices. But Eduardo was pretty clear about not wanting to work with him in particular and if his absence is what it takes to make sure their board members don’t start working for their competitors, then Mark can work from home for an afternoon.

\--

When Mark gets home he finds himself suddenly exhausted, despite it being only lunchtime. He bangs around his home office for a moment, setting up his laptop to do some work. Only to realize the dilemma he’s put himself into.

Mark has been working feverishly on the development of the new platform for months. If Eduardo agrees to bring his development projects over to Facebook, Mark has basically agreed to take himself functionally off the project. And Mark has no intention of letting Eduardo sell his software to anyone else.

Mark stares in frustration for a moment at the code he’s been working on. Letting out a sigh, he dumps the code into a document and pastes his notes at the top. He quickly compiles a list of the developers he thinks are capable of taking over the task, considers the projects they’re already assigned to and mentally narrows the list down to two developers. He pulls up his email system and sends them both an email, apprising them of the new development and their new assignment.

Mark fires off the email and then stares his computer; at a loss. He snaps the lid closed in annoyance. He might not have intended to flee the Facebook offices, but he suddenly feels exiled from his own creation in a way he never has before. Mark walks out of his office, suddenly angry at Eduardo for forcing him into this position.

Coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, Mark stares up towards the second floor and decides to try and get some sleep. Eduardo might have forced him out of the Facebook offices today, but he’ll be damned if the specter of their friendship is going to keep him from sleeping anymore. Mark storms up the stairs and practically flings himself onto his bed.

Sleep proves to be elusive.

\--

“You know what I’m saying here, man?” Wardo asks. Mark rolls his head to the side and eyes his friend.

“Not a clue,” Mark responds truthfully, feeling like he walked into their conversation right in the middle. The grass they’re laying in is incredibly comfortable, warmed by the soft sunlight. The swaying trees overhead fading away in neat and orderly rows, almost like an orchard.

“Not everyone needs a deep and insightful analysis of their thoughts all the time, is all I’m saying,” Wardo explains. “Sometimes all I want is just some simple affirmation, not a point by point dissection and refutation.” The shadows from the trees overhead change color to accent Eduardo’s words, going from blue to green to yellow. Mark finds himself mesmerized by the shifting patterns as they dance across the exposed skin of Wardo’s arm.

“You just want me to like what you say? No judgment,” Mark muses. He rolls onto his side, curling towards Wardo.

“Exactly.”

“Okay,” Mark agrees placidly as his eyes drift closed. He feels Wardo’s fingers comb softly through his curls and he hums contentedly.

\--

The silent vibration of his phone finally wakes Mark back up. He jerks back awake with a curse, blinking in the darkening light of his bedroom. He remembers why he hates his room so fucking much. 

It’s been nearly three years since Eduardo was a significant part of the day to day life of Facebook. They have now been ex-friends who sued each other for longer than they were originally friends. The same has not been true for Eduardo’s significance in Mark’s life. Much to his displeasure, he’d discovered that one could not easily sever and write out a central and integral friendship as you could a financial obligation or piece of code. Legal obligations and programming languages; these things flowed within defined parameters and predetermined lines. Human relations ran roughshod over your boundaries and left gaping holes in your life.

A therapist he’d gone to see about a half year after the settlement suggested it would get easier with time. He’d had the gall to tell Mark that accepting the pain was part of the process; that it was normal. Mark hadn’t bothered going back after listening to that trite crap. He wasn’t interested in wallowing in his feelings.

In the first few months after Eduardo left, Mark had made an effort to avoid things that reminded him of his friend. That had proved rather difficult as Mark had quickly discovered just how many things Eduardo’s humor and smile had imprinted themselves upon.

Now, when he came across something it offered only nostalgia with the faintest hint of bitterness. A recent hire at the office had taken up capoeira at their gym and started posting videos. Mark had smiled when he’d seen them, thinking that Eduardo would have gotten a kick out of the cheesy American music the guy had dubbed over the performance before he’d remembered sharing it wasn’t really an option anymore. He’d spent another few, frustrated minutes, wondering if Chris or Dustin had sent the video on to Eduardo and pondering his possible reaction before closing the video tab with an annoyed sigh.

Mark isn’t sure why this is the memory that comes to mind as he crawls back out of his bed. It’s not as if he can send the videos to Eduardo now. The man hadn’t exactly been happy to see him at Chris’s party.

He trudges down the stairs, turning on lights in the growing twilight of the evening. Walking into his kitchen, Mark debates between eating something (his stomach growls) and simply throwing himself straight back into his work. His phone buzzes again in his hand, nearly forgotten. Mark looks down, food forgotten, and flicks past the notification of new email.

He has over a dozen new emails from his staff since he went to sleep. Several are from members of the development team asking why they’ve been reassigned, reaching varying levels of panic until around 2 p.m.. Mark notices the sudden cessation of emails from the development team coincides with the time he’d scheduled Eduardo’s appointment for. With only the slightest trepidation, he opens the following email from his assistant at 2:21 p.m..

>   
> From: Devon DeShawn  
> To: Mark Zuckerburg  
> Subject: Mr. Saverin’s meeting
> 
> He just went into the meeting with the development team. And Chris says he deserves a raise for making sure Mr. Saverin didn’t leave after finding out you weren’t even here.
> 
> -D 

Mark blinks down at the message with mild relief and surprise. He forces his hand to unclench from around his phone and rereads the message. He’s relieved that Eduardo showed up, as it makes dealing with any potential software he’s working on less complicated. But Mark is surprised by the casual reference to Eduardo possibly leaving after realizing he’d left the office. Mark had assumed that Eduardo wouldn’t want him there, after their phone conversation.

Mark clicks through the next few emails, which prove to be even less enlightening.

>   
> From: Dustin Moskovitz  
> To: Mark Zuckerburg  
> Subject: Dude
> 
> How are you not here right now? You can’t go kicking the hornet’s nest and then bail! But seriously, props for getting Wardo to show up. Did you promise him another 5%?
> 
> ….too soon? 

>   
> From: Chris Hughes  
> To: Mark Zuckerburg  
> Subject: You owe me
> 
> See above. 

Finally, there is a message from Eduardo, dated only a few minutes earlier. Mark sits down on one of the barstools in his kitchen before opening the email.

>   
> From: E. Saverin  
> To: Mark Zuckerberg  
> Subject: Future meetings
> 
> I met with your development team, who were relieved to discover they were not about to be fired. Perhaps you should tell your employees the reason for suddenly relieving them of the majority of their duties, I’m just saying. For future meetings you don’t need to schlep back to your house like a scorned woman. The peace from not seeing your face was entirely ruined by having to deal with your entire executive staff freaking out.

Mark tosses the phone on the counter as his stomach painfully reminds him he hasn’t eaten in at least twelve hours. He’s surprised by the email, perhaps not it’s tone, but the fact that Eduardo emailed him directly. Nor does it answer his assistant’s passing reference to Eduardo trying to leave once he’d found out Mark had left. From his email, Eduardo seemed more mildly annoyed that Mark’s absence had caused problems, rather than upset that he wasn’t there.

Mark pulls open the fridge and eyes the contents. Inside there were several prepared dishes, with post-it notes containing directions from his housekeeper on each. Mark grabs one, labeled corned beef sandwich, and pulled off the plastic cover before popping into the microwave. As the microwave hummed softly, Mark’s thoughts turned back to the day’s events.

He didn’t understand Eduardo. To be fair, he isn’t sure he ever had. They had been friends, true. Yet Eduardo had continually tried to pull him – and facebook – in directions they hadn’t needed to be going in the early days. Then there had been the lawsuit. Lawsuits, rather. Mark had known Eduardo would be angry over the share dilution, but he’d assumed the other man would see it coming. Mark had warned him repeatedly he was in danger of getting left behind. And Eduardo was a very smart man, his removal from the day to day decisions shouldn’t have been such a complete surprise.

What Mark had been entirely unprepared for was how overwhelming the depositions had been. How painful they had been. While the decision to remove Eduardo had been calculated and based on many conversations, none of it had prepared him for the brunt of his friend’s anger. Nor had he been ready for how bitter the remainder of Eduardo’s loyalty would taste as Mark watched his former friend stiffly defend him against the Winklevosses and Divya.

Mark is interrupted from his thoughts by the chime of the microwave and his phone going off a second later.

_And now you wanna be my friend on facebook... Are you fucking kidding?_

The familiar strains of Dustin’s ring tone sound tinny echoing through the kitchen. Picking up his phone, Mark hits the answer button and shoves his phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Dustin, explain to me why my assistant and Chris both think I owe Chris for dealing with Eduardo. What the hell happened after I left?” Mark demands as he tries to pull his hot sandwich out of the microwave without dropping the phone.

“You owe him for so many things, the least of which happened today,” Dustin declares with his usual chutzpa.

“Yes, all of your lives must be so difficult working for me,” Mark replies with an unseen roll of his eyes.

“Anyway, now that I know you’re awake, I’ll be more than happy to ‘asplain,” Dustin says easily.

“Wait, really? No more sarcastic quips?” Mark’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Of course, just open the door.” His voice is drowned out at the end by the doorbell. Mark curses as he nearly drops both his phone and his dinner.

“Hold on, there’s someone at the door,” Mark says. Dustin just laughs in response and hangs up on him. Phone and food both still in hand, Mark walks through his house to the front door, where he manages to get the door open without dropping anything.

“Ah, clever,” Mark says when he sees Dustin standing on his doorstep.

 

-

They make their way back into Mark’s kitchen, where Mark sits down to eat his food. Dustin takes a seat at the other end of the counter, typing rapidly on his phone for a moment before looking up.

“First off, next time you decide to reassign entire development teams, give us some forewarning. Or at least explain _why_ you’re doing it, okay?” Dustin holds up a hand to forestall any potential objection from Mark. Mark simply chews his food and waits, he knows Dustin well enough to let the man get it all out first. “I had all four of our development team leaders in my office within 5 minutes of your email this afternoon, demanding to know if there was a corporate reorganization or layoffs about to come down. It wasn’t until Eduardo showed up ready to give a presentation and set up the video conference with his software engineers that any of our guys started to believe your weren’t out picking severance packages.”

“We have some of the best software developers and engineers in the country. Why on earth would I fire them?” Mark asks rhetorically.

“I say these things to them and no one listens to me,” Dustin replies in an overly aggrieved manner.

“That still doesn’t explain the emails,” Mark says when Dustin pauses. The younger man shoots him a sharp look and smiles far too innocently.

“Emails?” he asks.

“Devon and Chris both emailed me this afternoon,” Mark responds after a beat.

“Really? Just them?” Dustin asks, again far too innocently to actually _be_ innocent.

“No,” Mark says slowly. He realizes quickly that Dustin wants him to admit Eduardo has emailed him, as he clearly already knows, so they can discuss it. ‘Discussing feelings about Eduardo’ lies just above ‘Fight off a massive infestation of ants’ on the list of things Marc least desires to do right now. He hired a gardener for the latter and he’s now pretty sure he can’t contract out the former. He did make a website once to get himself some friends, it didn’t work out so well (on the personal friend aspect, that is).

“I also got an email from you and from nearly every member of my development staff,” Mark continued, deliberately drawing it out just to frustrate Dustin. “And Eduardo.” Mark nearly inhaled half his pastrami sandwich by accident in his rush to stuff some food into his mouth as an excuse to not talk for a moment. The sudden, blinding grin from Dustin gives Mark pause as he chews.

“So Eduardo emailed you, did he?” Mark can practically _feel_ the glee seeping out of Dustin’s grin. It is at this point that Mark realizes his tactical error. Dustin probably hadn’t known for sure that Eduardo had emailed him after the meeting, at most only suspected. Mark swallows.

“You still haven’t really told me what happened after I left,” Mark starts.

“Only if you tell me about this email first,” Dustin replies, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“I’ll tell you about the email after you tell me why I owe Chris yet again,” Mark says.

\--

The next morning, Mark makes a point of stopping by the large bullpen that had come to function as both Chris’s office and the PR department.

“Hey,” he starts rather ineloquently when Chris looks up from his phone call. Chris shushes him with a hand motion and scribbles something quickly on a piece of paper.

_Lunch – MY CHOICE – it will be the first (and least) of the things you owe me._

Mark looks back up, helpless in the face of Chris’s frankness.

“Of course, Mr. Zuckerburg has no comment,” Chris says into the phone, pointedly eying Mark. “He’s busy running one of the most successful websites in the world, he doesn’t have time to comment on your speculation about his private live.”

Mark holds up his hands as a sign of surrender and retreats to his office. 

Dustin appears with alarming quickness. Not for the first time, Mark wonders if his staff keeps some kind of open tracking system on him when he’s in the office so that the other senior employees can find him easily.

“So?” Dustin drawls exaggeratedly, “Did you grovel before the greatness that is our Mr. Hughes?”

“He didn’t give me the chance. He slipped me a paper demanding a free lunch as the first step towards compensation and then summarily dismissed me,” Mark mutters. “Which doesn’t even make sense. I know exactly how much he makes, it’s not like he can’t afford lunch on his own. He probably has enough assets to buy whatever restaurant he’s going to demand we go to.”

Dustin laughs delightedly, much to Mark’s annoyance. Mark likes to think he has a sense of humor and can make people laugh – Eduardo used to find him hilarious. But he doesn’t like it when people laugh _at_ him.

“Mark,” Dustin starts. He holds up a hand with what can only be an overly fond grin to forestall Mark’s protests. “Sometimes people appreciate the gesture, even if it’s functionally not necessary.”

“I see,” Mark replies, his eyes skittering over towards his open email inbox. “You’re coming with us to lunch?”

“Hell no. As much as I’d love to be a fly on the wall, you’re entirely on your own here. Good luck at lunch,” Dustin says with a wide grin. “Just remember what I said last night and you’ll be fine.” He leaves Mark alone in his office once more, waving cheerily to Devon on his way out.

Mark considers his friend’s words as he stares blankly at the computer monitor. Frowning almost unconsciously, he clicks open the email Eduardo had sent the previous day. His former friend had seemed angry and bitter when they’d seen each other at Chris’s party. So why, then, had he been upset when Mark had tried to accommodate him by giving him some space?

Mark had assumed he’d been doing it entirely for practical purposes, if he accommodated Eduardo it would help the company. If he’s being completely honest with himself though, Mark had done it for other reasons as well. He’d had no desire to experience another scene with Eduardo sniping at him angrily in front of the people who were supposed to respect him. People that Mark is beginning to suspect have never truly respected him. Pitied him, perhaps, or feared him but not respected him.

>   
> From: Mark Zuckerburg  
> To: Eduardo Saverin  
> Subject: RE: Future Meetings
> 
> You made it pretty clear that my presence was unwelcome but you are still part of the public face of Facebook, even if you aren’t CFO anymore. So working for social media services that directly compete with us looks bad for Facebook and is just bad business. Why develop something specifically to compete against your own investment?
> 
> So I thought I’d step back and let you develop it for us for Facebook.
> 
> I don’t know what you want from me here. 


End file.
